


Mission - Steve and Bucky's Best Christmas Ever

by LightningStriking



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky Barnes Is A Huge Dork, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Tree, First Kiss, Glitter Glue, Happy Ending, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Pining, Stucky - Freeform, seriously so fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 17:13:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8900992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningStriking/pseuds/LightningStriking
Summary: Bucky has a plan.  A carefully constructed, and meticulously plotted plan.  Of how to give his best friend Steve the most wonderful, festive, and happy Christmas season ever.  Culminating in a declaration of love, which hopefully will be returned.  Can Bucky pull it off, and receive the best Christmas present of all - Steve as his boyfriend??





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cukimonstaaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cukimonstaaa/gifts).



> Hello my lovely readers! I'm posting this story in honor of my one year Ao3 anniversary! This has been such an amazing year, and I'm so grateful for every person who has read my stories, gifted me with kudos, and taken the time to leave wonderful comments. Sharing my work is such an awesome experience, and I hope you appreciate this story, a festive fluff fest, written as a Christmas present for my beautiful Cukimonstaaa. Special thank you to 70SecretKinks for all the delightful suggestions and encouragement. Let the Christmassy tale of love begin!

Icy blue gray eyes carefully scanned the room, taking in any potential threat, or any overt display of interest. Finding none, the owner of those eyes finally met the gaze of the lethal looking redhead sitting across from him. As he leaned in slowly, she matched the pose, appearance completely relaxed, yet he knew he held her full attention from the focus in her stare. "Here is the mission outlined in its entirety. Confidential, top clearance only," he spoke quietly, as he carefully slid the folded paper across the table.

            The slightest raise of a perfect brow was the only shift in her expression, as with delicate fingers she picked up the document and unfolded it. Green eyes narrowed as she skimmed over the mission parameters. Before finally looking back up, meeting that blue gray gaze once more. "Is this... written in glitter glue?"

            Bucky nodded, eyes widening with sincerity. "Yeah. Cause it's festive. And the paper is peppermint scented!"

            Natasha lifted the paper to her face, delicately gave it a sniff. Huh, it was scented. Nice.

            "Okay, that's great and all, Barnes, but uh, please explain to me _why_ you're about to spend considerable time and effort on Mission-" a pause as she glanced back down at the title carefully written on the top of the page is sparkling red and gold - "'Finally Confess My Love For Steve Rogers and Ask Him Out'?"

            Bucky frowned at her, more than a little annoyed that she wasn't absorbing the genius of his carefully composed and outlined plan, complete with bullet points and illustrations. "Okay, first off, you added the 'Finally', that is _not_ part of the title." He ignored her eye roll and muttered, " _Should be_ ", plowing on undeterred. "Second off, Steve is worth all the time and effort in the entire world." It was a fact he felt should be imminently obvious. After all, Steve was basically the human equivalent of puppies and sunshine and all the happy things in existence. "And third off, if I'm going to tell Steve how I feel-"

            " _Finally_ ," she interjected, smirking at the quelling look he gave her.

            "Then I damn well want it to be memorable. And, maybe, hopefully, after all that, he'll feel the same. Or at the very least be willing to entertain the idea of going out with me."

            Satisfied he'd effectively won his case, Bucky sat back and took a sip of his peppermint white chocolate mocha, sighing blissfully at the beverage that was basically Christmas in a cup. So delightful.

            Natasha, lifelong friend, confident, and long suffering audience for the unrelenting crush he'd harbored on one Steve Rogers since he was eight years old, sighed as she sat back as well. Although there was nothing blissful in her noise, which Bucky thought was a damn shame. After all, they were in their favorite coffee shop, enjoying perfectly crafted beverages while appreciating an unexpectedly quiet ambiance since most of the world was out engaged in the craze of black Friday shopping. Not Bucky and Nat though, since Bucky was the type of guy to have his shopping done well before Thanksgiving arrived ("What? I like to start early") and Natasha was a firm believer in gift cards ("Here's some money, get whatever you want").

            "Bucky," she began, a frown pinching her brows as she pushed aside the sparkly scented paper, and placed her hand on top of his. "Steve is great, I know. But so are you. And like I've been telling you for the last twenty years, I'm confident he feels the same way about you. So why don't you just tell him how you feel? And then afterward, if you want to get more Christmassy than a Hallmark movie marathon, go for it?"

            Bucky bit his lip, taking another gulp of his drink, slightly depressed to find he enjoyed it a bit less than he had a minute ago. Setting the cup aside, he ran a hand through his hair, before flipping the other hand over, intertwining his fingers with Nat's. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I should just tell him and see how it goes. But... the last couple years, the holidays haven't been the best," he felt her fingers squeeze his in silent sympathy, and appreciated the support. If anyone understood just how hard they had been, it was Nat.

            "So I just want to give him, give us both really, the best Christmas possible. And if, well, it turns out he doesn't feel that way about me-" and oh, even the possibility turned his insides to lead, but after twenty long years, he was ready to push past the fear that had kept him from confessing his feelings all those decades. "Then at least we'll have both had this Christmas together. Without me ruining it before it even starts by telling him something he possibly doesn't want to hear."

            Natasha's eyes held nothing but quiet compassion, even as he could read her struggle in not insisting once more that Steve would be a fool not to return those feelings, and Steve was certainly no fool. She bit the words back though, and glanced down once more at the detailed proposal of how Bucky would create the most festive, happy, wonderful, and possibly romantic Christmas season ever, culminating with his declaration of love on Christmas Eve.

            "Well, this definitely is the most, uh, _creative_ plan you've ever come up with. I wish you all the success. And..." she consulted the comprehensive strategy. "I'm definitely crashing activities five, seven, and twelve."

            Grinning once more, Bucky nodded. "As your non-romantic life partner, I wouldn't want it any other way."

            "Well then Barnes, I wish you all the luck." Lifting her cup, she tapped it against his in a companionable cheers, ready to be entertained watching Bucky work his magic. And more than ready for two idiots in love to finally get it together. Then she could finally enjoy some double dates, rather than double non-dates where Steve and Bucky crashed her social engagements and tried to pretend they weren't crazy about each other while she and Clint rolled their eyes in mutual exasperation. Let the Finally Confess My Love For Steve Rogers and Ask Him Out Mission begin.

 

 

Bucky had never heard a yawn sound surprised before, but clearly there was a first time for everything. Standing at the stove, he turned to see Steve lingering by the kitchen table, hair in fluffy disarray, sleepy eyes blinking in confusion. "What is all this?" Steve asked in a raspy voice, even as a grin began to tug over his face. Bucky could only be grateful for twenty years of practice hiding the way Steve undid him, the extensive experience all that kept him from melting into an equally fluffy haired pile of love.

            Seriously, Steve was the most handsome, sexy, yet adorable person in the existence. Morning Steve however, all soft and cuddly in flannel pajama pants and worn t-shirt, that gorgeous smile lighting up his features, was lethal. Alternately threatening to make Bucky's heart give out altogether, and melt his sanity until he gave in to every urge inside of him and just tackled Steve, and cuddled the heck out of him. But Bucky, among other things, had become a master of self-control. After decades of being Steve's best friend, the last several years as his roommate, he'd seen the blond in every state possible. Each one of them only made him want Steve more. Bucky was a master of not letting those feeling show, always fearing that Steve could never feel the same for him. Petrified at the idea of forever ruining the friendship that meant more to him than anything else in life, he'd kept those feelings to himself.

            However, he was finally ready to work past that fear. In part due to his friends, Natasha in particular, insisting he man up, and own up to the longings of his heart before she smothered him in his sleep. But mostly because he'd realized this limbo he existed in couldn't last forever. This state that was half heaven and half torture, where Steve and he lived together, spent their time together, ate Chinese takeout on the couch, feet companionably tangled together, where Bucky could play pretend that he belonged to Steve in every way - Bucky knew an end was hovering just out of sight. Someone would someday see in Steve all the things Bucky always had, Steve would fall in love, and the fantasy would be over. Just the thought of it made dread curl heavy and painful in Bucky's stomach. And he had come to realize as much as he feared pushing Steve away with heartfelt declarations, he'd never forgive himself if he never even took the chance that just _perhaps_ , Steve could feel the same way.

            For now Bucky restrained himself, and returned Steve's smile, even as he imagined what it would be like to taste those curved lips with his own. "This is the official beginning of Steve's And Bucky's Best Christmas Season Ever!" he declared dramatically, quickly flipping the pancake on the griddle the moment it was perfectly golden. He was grateful he'd already come up with a code name, when the official mission title would be a bit of a giveaway for his master plan.

            Steve let out a surprised, happy laugh as he stared down at the table. A pancake in the shape of a reindeer sat on a plate, with bacon arranged like antlers, chocolate chip eyes, a red cherry nose and a whip cream smile. It was officially the cutest breakfast he'd ever seen in his life. "Bucky," Steve started, voice going soft, unreasonably touched that Bucky had gone through the trouble for him. Biting his lip, he looked back up at Bucky, who stood at the stove in sweat pants and his favorite hoodie, hair bundled into a messy bun. "Thank you," he finally settled, letting those words say all the things he couldn't. Pulling a surprised Bucky into his arms, Steve hugged him close, unaware of the way Bucky sighed silently, eyes closing as he leaned into the embrace. "We could both use a good Christmas," he added quietly.

            Bucky let himself sway into that hug, before he pulled back, and gave Steve a poke in the stomach. "Well sit down and eat up, because we've got a busy month ahead of us!"

            "A whole month?" Steve grinned, sitting down at his chair, though he didn't pick up his fork until Bucky sat down across from him with his own pancake.

            "Brace yourself, buddy. This is only the beginning."

 

 

Bucky hadn't been exaggerating, smiling as he waved away Steve's attempts to do the breakfast dishes after they'd each demolished several stacks of pancakes. Bucky insisted he'd handle it himself, so that Steve could get to work, though he'd sternly insisted Steve be ready by five for their first Christmassy outing. Steve had given him a jaunty salute, a deep voiced "Yes, sir!" that did things to Bucky that were simply unfair, before settling into his study to work on his latest painting.

            Yet Steve had stuck his head back out of his office well before the appointed time when he first heard, then saw Bucky struggling to unearth several boxes from their jammed hallway closet. Bucky muttered in annoyance as several snow boots, miscellaneous gloves, and one tennis racket of all things, came tumbling down on him. Had either of them ever actually played tennis? Where did this stuff come from, he wondered, theorizing perhaps hall closets acted as portals to another dimension, where random junk came through. Some alternate universe Bucky was probably holding up Bucky's old baseball card collection, wondering where the heck that had come from.

            Saved from further contemplation, and likely a concussion when Steve's arms reached around him and caught the precarious box that had been inches from falling straight on Bucky's head, Bucky shot him a grateful smile. He was more than a little breathless from the close contact when Steve set the box aside and raised a curious eyebrow. "What you doing buddy?" he question curiously, before resting his chin on Bucky's shoulder, staring into the crowded depths of the closet. "Wow, I didn't even know we had golf clubs."

            Bucky laughed, carefully backing out with the boxes he'd been searching for that fortunately had not gone to another realm, only regretting it a little when Steve moved out of the way. "The things you find. But I was looking for these!" Smiling, Steve took one of the cartons from his stack, tilting it to see the messy scrawl on the side as he followed Buck into the living room.

            "Christmas ornaments," he read, before looking up at Bucky. "We're going to get a tree?" he demanded, brows lifting.

            Bucky grinned, as he set down his load. "Hello, Best Christmas Season Ever? Obviously, we're getting a tree."

            "We haven't had a tree in... a long time," Steve said, carefully placing the box next to Bucky's.

            "Yeah, I know," Bucky agreed. Watching the play of emotion over Steve's face, complicated and nuanced, he hoped he hadn't made a mistake in this. Their eyes meet, and Bucky knew they were both recalling the December three years prior, when Sarah, Steve's beautiful, generous, kind until the very end mother had finally lost her battle to cancer. Spending every moment in the hospital with her until she passed, neither Steve nor Bucky had been in any frame of mind to celebrate the holiday season. The following year, the grief had still been too fresh, and so Steve and Bucky had spent Christmas together quietly, toasting to Sarah's memory, and the wonderful life she'd led. Last year, Bucky himself had been in the hospital, after being involved in a car wreck that had left him struggling through several months of painful physical therapy. And Steve had never left his side, he recalled, overwhelmed once more.

            This year - this year he hoped they could celebrate the wonder of Christmas again. And just perhaps, the magic of the season that had always been his favorite would give him the one thing he wanted above all others - Steve.

            Blinking in surprise when Steve lurched to his feet, then darted away to his bedroom, Bucky called out after him. "Where are you going?" A smile grew on his face when Steve fell back out of his doorway, haphazardly throwing on a scarf, boots and coat all at once, colliding into the wall as he hopped on one foot.

            "We're going to get a Christmas tree!" No, it seemed, this wasn't a mistake at all.

            By the time the two of them were hefting a tree that was far heavier than seemed logical up yet another flight of stairs, Bucky was regretting several things. Not getting a smaller tree for once. "Next year," he panted as they rounded another landing, "Let's get a spruce. I hear they're lighter." Steve's laughter, equally breathless, soon had Bucky dissolving into helpless chuckles.

            "I can't lift and laugh at the same time!" Bucky exclaimed, pausing mid-flight to wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes, dropping his end of the tree and nearly sending Steve flying backwards down the stairs.

            "Sorry, sorry!" Bucky wheezed, quickly grabbing the fluffy tree once more, reflecting on his second regret - that they didn't live in a building with a reliable elevator. But as he hefted again, and they made it up the next flight of stairs, Steve puffing out a Christmas carol horribly off key until Bucky begged him to stop, he realized that he didn't regret a moment of this experience at all, when it was with Steve. The blond had been adorable at the tree lot, his bouncing enthusiasm settling into deep, intense contemplation. Comparing the offered trees with more attention to detail than some people spent choosing a life partner, Steve weighed the options endlessly until even the salesman was rolling his eyes.

            Bucky had just watched Steve in pure delight, so happy to be able to enjoy such a simple pleasure with his best friend. Happier yet when Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders, steering Bucky towards his top contenders, asking for the opinion Bucky was happy to gave. Applauding Steve's choice, when it was at long last made, Bucky shouted down Steve's objections as he paid for the gorgeous tree, before they hefted it up and started the short walk home. Maybe the trip up ten flights of stairs wasn't the easiest, but even that was a delight all its own when he shared it with Steve, and his terrifically awful singing.

            By the time they wrestled the tree through the door and into the stand Bucky had wisely set up ahead of time, he was more than ready for the seasonal beer he'd purchased the day before. Tossing one to Steve, they both collapsed onto the couch, sipping their beers in companionable silence as they admired the tree. "Good job, Steve, you picked the best tree ever," Bucky said, smiling when Steve flushed in pleasure.

            "Thank you for having the fantastic idea to get one." Steve grinned back at Bucky, before announcing, "I can't wait to decorate it!" Which clearly was no exaggeration, considering he instantly jumped back to his feet, and began to crack into the boxes Bucky had pulled from the closet. Grinning now in happiness at Steve's enthusiasm, more glad than ever he'd suggested this, simply because it made Bucky feel warm inside to see Steve so happy, Bucky quickly queued up some Christmas music on his phone. Then he knelt down next to Steve as they pulled out ornaments and lights, arguing playfully over the right way to put them on the tree.

            They exclaimed over old popsicle stick ornaments decorated with generous globs of glitter, and recounted fond memories of Christmas's past. At last, Bucky flicked off the lamps in the living room until the only illumination was the warm colorful gleam of the Christmas lights, and they stood to admire their work, until Steve took Bucky's hand in his own, and tugged with a playful grin. "Come on," he coaxed, "You know what comes next."

            Bucky grumbled for form but conceded easily, Steve's laugh telling him he saw straight through the performance. Bucky flopped down on the ground, wiggling on his back until he was lying under the tree, staring up into it, hyper-aware of Steve wriggling up next to him, close enough to touch. Sighing in contentment, they stared up at the shimmering lights that twinkled merrily, the tradition one they'd done every year they'd had a tree, since they were kids. And just like he had, every year since he was a kid, Bucky chanced turning just enough to look at Steve, and drink in the wonder on Steve's face. The way the colored lights reflected in the gorgeous blue of his eyes, shimmered off the shining gold of his hair. When Steve turned to meet his gaze, a soft smile curving those beautiful lips, the smile he seemed to reserve for Bucky and Bucky alone, Bucky felt it stronger than ever – that love which had grown inside him from the first day he'd met Steve.

            Clearing his throat, Bucky lifted his eyes back to the tree. "So what do you say? Good start to the Steve's And Bucky's Best Christmas Season Ever?" He felt his breath catch when Steve reached out, took Bucky's hand in his own once more.

            "The best," Steve replied.

 

 

As Bucky hit the ground, _again_ , with a painful grunt, he contemplated that this wasn't his most brilliant of ideas. Which was a shame. After all, he'd had plenty of good ones. Each day, he’d concocted a new activity for him and Steve to enjoy together, every one as festive as possible. Once Steve had understood the new routine for what it was, he'd taken to playfully interrogating Bucky about what was next, threatening to work the answers out of him with a combination of bribery, relentless questioning, or worse come to worse, merciless tickling. Bucky had refused to give in, not wanting a single surprise spoiled, and while Steve had groaned about it, Bucky knew he enjoyed it. Bucky certainly had, every day making him feel only closer to Steve. Except for today.

            Pushing himself up carefully, Bucky cautiously made his way to his feet. Before they flew out from under him, sending him to his ass this time. His now very painful ass. "Ouch," he grumbled, wishing today was Christmas cookie baking day. That had been a resounding success. Not that he and Steve had ever actually made it to the baking stage. The men had carefully followed the recipe Bucky had printed, neither one having much experience with baking. They’d made a mess of the kitchen, and a bigger mess of themselves, but both were having too much fun to care. Once the dough had been complete, Bucky checked the oven to make sure it was pre-heated, then turned back to see Steve with a guilty face and a full mouth.

            "Steve, you're not supposed to eat it yet!"

            "But ish good," Steve had slurred. Which, really, was a pretty compelling point. Still giving Steve a stern look, Bucky had spooned out a blob of dough himself. Shoved it in his mouth. And moaned. Dang, it was good.

            After that, one thing led to another. In other words, they ate the rest of the dough without baking a single cookie, leading to the both of them lying on the floor, groaning over their stomachaches. The next morning, Steve had shown up with a giant grin, and a giant box of store bought cookies, saying that was the only way they'd ever have an actual baked cookie. Bucky was forced to admit Steve was probably right.

            Today, in comparison, not was so good. Because Bucky was learning rather quickly that he had zero aptitude for ice skating. Hadn't he done this as a kid? With some measure of success? He was pretty sure he would have remembered his anatomy making frequent and painful contact with the ice. But then again, maybe he was only bad when there were witnesses. Like Natasha, who as promised, had crashed today's event, and was gliding around with a grace and skill Bucky found personally offensive. Clint and Sam were engaged in a crazed race around the rink that left them skidding and crashing into the walls and each other, while alarmed parents pulled their children out of the way. And Steve - Steve was skating around as though he was born on the ice, a natural. Far too pretty to look at, Steve’s plush lips curved in a happy smile as Natasha laughingly spun around him. Which was probably half of Bucky's problem - it was difficult to concentrate of staying upright when the sight of Steve always threatened to knock his feet out from under him.

            Sighing when he managed to fall on his side this time, a whole new location to bruise, Bucky rolled onto his back. Splayed out like a sad starfish, Bucky decided he lived here now. Staring up at the sky, he made peace with his fate, only stirring himself to raise a very specific finger when Clint and Sam raced by, shouting words of encouragement to him that only added insult to his injuries. It wasn't such a bad spot, after all, he told himself.   Sure, it was rather cold. And hard. But he had a nice view of the sky overhead. At least until a large shadow fell over him, Steve's face blocking out the sun, though his expression was every bit as bright. "How you doing there, pal?" he questioned, chuckling at Bucky's responding groan. "Let's get you up," Steve suggested, and then with absolutely no assistance from Bucky or his flailing limbs, he got the brunet back onto his feet, kept him there with two warm hands on Bucky's waist.

            "It's official. You're not from Brooklyn," Bucky declared, hoping Steve would attribute his out of breath state to his falls, rather than how those fingers pressing into his sides sent his heart stumbling. He continued when Steve quirked a questioning brow. "Obviously you're a Canadian, with this freakish ability of yours." Steve threw his head back to laugh, and grinning with him, Bucky thought okay, maybe this was pretty good after all. Especially when Steve let go of his waist, but took his hands instead.

            "Come on, it's not so hard. I'll help you." And Steve began to skate backwards with a skill Bucky knew he'd never possess, while tugging Bucky along. It should have been embarrassing. When Natasha glided effortlessly by, Bucky did glare at her smug smile, but didn't try to pull free. Because any time Steve touched him, Bucky never wanted him to stop.

            The men laughed as they slowly made their way around the rink, and after two rotations, Bucky thought he might be able to navigate the ice on his own. But he didn't offer, and Steve didn't ask. Instead they spent the afternoon hand in hand, Bucky deciding this was a pretty great idea after all. Finally, the two sat on the bleachers at the side of the rink, watching as Clint and Natasha figure skated together, the duo surprisingly graceful and elegant. Sam, who'd wandered off on a hunt for a hot beverage, was now charming one of the skaters who'd been making eyes at him all morning.

            "This was a lot of fun," Steve said. "Everything has been just... amazing. Thank you. For all of this."

            Their gazes meeting, holding, seeing the soft, sincere way Steve stared at him, Bucky bit his lip. He almost gave in to the words that welled up from his heart, wanting to trip out of his mouth and close the space between them. _Soon_ , he promised himself. Soon he would say all the things he wanted. But for now, he nodded, kept it light. "Of course, ya punk. Anything for you," he replied, fondness in his voice as he knocked his shoulder against Steve. He immediately regretted it, fearing he'd exposed too much after all. When Steve's eyes darkened, a contemplative look moving over his face as he seemed to sift through possible meanings of that phrase, Bucky held his breath, and couldn't quite hold back the little shiver that ran through him as he and Steve stared at one another, close enough to touch. Steve's brows immediately pulled together into a frown.

            "Are you cold?" he demanded, abruptly wearing the same expression of intense concern Bucky had worn more times than he recalled when Steve was younger, and so much more prone to illness than he was as an adult. Without even waiting for a response, Steve began to unwind the scarf from around his own neck, clearly intent on bundling Bucky up in it instead.

            Bucky laughed, even as he rolled his eyes and tried to unsuccessfully wind the scarf back around Steve's neck, their battling hands only succeeding in making a tangle of it. "I'm _fine_ Mom. Besides, I'm not taking your scarf cause then you'd be cold, ya dork."

            Steve rolled his eyes right back, before his face lit up, cheerful determination spreading across those gorgeous features. "Okay, then we'll share!" And before Bucky could do more than snort at the idea, Steve had slid over until their sides were touching from shoulder to knee, and wrapped half of the scarf around Bucky's neck, winding the other end around his own. "Tada!"

            "Brilliant," Bucky replied dryly, his words muffled by the scarf Steve had wound all the way up to his nose.

            Laughing helplessly, Steve clutched at his chest, finally subsiding into quiet chuckles as Bucky glared at him all the while. "Alright, alright, hold on," Steve snickered, reaching up to readjust the fluffy fabric, his fingertips skimming lightly over Bucky's skin, lingering for endless seconds on the angle of his jaw. Powerless, Bucky felt hypnotized staring into those eyes that were darker than ever, Steve now close enough to kiss. Clearing his throat, Steve slowly let his hands fall. "Better?" he questioned, voice rougher than usual.

            Bucky swallowed. "Perfect." And if his own voice was a little tighter than normal, well, that could be attributed to the cold, right? Tearing his gaze from Steve's before he lost his head altogether, surrounded in the intoxicating scent of the blond, Bucky turned back to the rink. Silent now, Steve wrapped an arm around Bucky's shoulders, and unable to resist, Bucky leaned into him. Their sighs of contentment were soundless, yet eloquently expressing everything that needed to be said. Encompassed by the warmth of Steve's embrace, Bucky revised his previous assessment. Clearly, this was the best idea yet.

 

 

With an agonized cry, Steve fell to the ground. Clutching at his chest, he could only groan as Bucky dragged him to cover, while desperately avoiding fire. The instant they were to relative safety, Bucky was frantically checking him over. "Talk to me Steve! Where are you hit?"

            Wincing, Steve pressed his side, hissing as Bucky carefully prodded at his jaw, recalling with painful recollection that his face had been grazed as well. "This is it, Bucky. I'm done for."

            "Don't talk like that," Bucky ordered, even as he cautiously peeked around the makeshift barricade for signs of continued aggression, before meeting Steve's wide-eyed blue gaze once more. "We've been through worse than this. Just gotta walk it off Rogers."

            "Nope, I'm done for. You need to save yourself," Steve gritted out. "And Bucky?" His voice fading to a whisper, he managed to reach up, clasp a hand around Bucky's neck. "Since this is the last chance I'll get... I have to tell you something."

            "What is it, Steve?" Bucky replied, all thoughts of resistance against the hostiles closing in flying out of his mind as Steve stared up at him so defenselessly, so sincerely.

            "In the fifth grade, when your last birthday cupcake went missing, and I said it must have been the dog who ate it? It was really me. I'm so sorry Bucky." A pathetic sniffle.

            Placing a hand on Steve's chest, Bucky shook his head. "Don't worry about that now. It's okay. The only thing you need to focus on is getting back on your feet."

            "Leave me," Steve pleaded one last time. "Save yourself."

            "Not without you. You know our best chance of survival is together," Bucky entreated, the truthful words the only ones he could think of to convince Steve to keep fighting. He felt a jolt of relief when at the plea, purpose moved over those handsome features.

            "Together," Steve nodded, that jaw clenching in resolve. Letting Bucky pull him back up, the two men stayed crouched.

            "I don't think we can run for it. Our only chance is to blitz them," Bucky murmured, eyes narrowing as he saw the sign of movement from the enemy, far too close for comfort.

            Steve nodded, pain forgotten in the face of their plan. "On the count of three. One. Two. Three!"

            Diving out of from behind the park bench, Steve and Bucky pelted an unprepared Sam with snowballs, yet were immediately pummeled by the icy missiles Natasha delivered with a lethal arm. Clint, perched in the low branches of a tree, simply could not miss. Despite their best efforts, they were soon overwhelmed, Steve giving Bucky a commiserating look before they were tackled into snow drifts, snow shoved down the necks of their jackets by a hysterically laughing Sam and Clint. Apparently satisfied by Bucky's high pitched shriek of pain at the icy melt of snow, the men exchanged a high five, before trading a fist bump with Natasha, who looked down at Steve and Bucky with all the superiority her ruthless skills deserved. "Sorry boys. But you know how I roll - leave no survivors."

            Flopping over onto his back, face coated in white powder, Steve grabbed a now whimpering Bucky, manhandled him until he was staring up at the sky. "We really need to step up our game before challenging Nat to a snowball fight again," Steve mused, breath coming out in heavy pants.

            "Never. Never again," Bucky swore fervently, wincing as the freezing water trickled down his spine, not even Steve's laughter enough to warm up his thoroughly beaten and frozen soul. Okay, well, maybe it warmed him up a little, he decided, when he turned enough to see Steve beaming at him, wind chapped red skin covered in snow. Bucky was unable to hold back the chuckle, knowing he was in no better shape. Then he yelped when Steve began to enthusiastically flail his arms and legs, sending a wave of powder fluffing over Bucky like powdered sugar, and he was the fluffy pancake. "What are you doing ya punk?"

            "Come on, Buck! Snow angels!" Steve sang cheerfully. Laughing, Bucky shook his head at Steve's adorable antics. What the heck - he was already buried in snow anyways. Moving with more precision and care than Steve, he made a Bucky sized angel, then groaned as he and Steve both used some serious core strength to sit, then stand up without bracing their hands on the ground and mucking up all their hard work. Silently, they admired their creations.

            Tilting his head to the side, and finding that angle in no way improved the view, Bucky shook his head, gave Steve a sympathetic slap on the shoulder. "We're better at baking cookies than making snow angels apparently." Steve snorted out a laugh, but didn't disagree.

            "Sadly, you may be right. All well. What do you say to some hot chocolate, as a consolation prize, for completely failing today? My treat."

            Grinning up at Steve, who wrangled in their friends still prancing through the park playing in the snow, with the promise of hot drinks and maybe even cookies if Clint did _not_ throw that last snow ball at him, Bucky thought as far as consolation prizes for having his ass handed to him went, any time at all with Steve was a pretty damn good one. But really, chocolate only made it ever better.

 

 

Taking a step back, Bucky looked over his masterpiece with a critical eye. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and tonight... he wanted everything to be perfect. The way this entire month had been. He'd gone into this hoping to give Steve a wonderful Christmas season. And yet, somehow he felt Steve was really giving it to him. Or perhaps, in a lovely way, they were giving it to each other.

            The last thing Bucky had expected was for Steve to start surprising _him_. It had started with Steve storming Bucky's room one morning, waking Bucky up with a pillow to the face and a Christmassy coffee drink. Next had come the night they'd gone out to admire Christmas lights, then returned home only to have Steve enthusiastically whip out a gingerbread house kit. Several hours later, they had a completed house, decorated with both Star Wars and Star Trek symbols drawn in frosting, because they couldn't agree on a theme. Bucky laughing declared the house a disaster, and that all the other gingerbread houses in the neighborhood would report them to the gingerbread home owners association until they were evicted. Steve had declared it was the most beautiful house he'd ever seen.

            After everything, tonight felt more important than ever. Tonight was the last night to enjoy things as the way they'd always been - Steve as his best friend. And tomorrow, if everything went his way, tomorrow would be the start of the rest of his life, with Steve as his everything. Oh God, how he hoped things went his way. But if not... if not, he'd have tonight.

            Hearing the door open then close, Bucky turned to see Steve walking in, setting down his bag of art supplies, unbuttoning his coat. Before Steve froze, eyes growing wide as he took in the living room. "Bucky. What is all this?"

            "This is Christmas movie night!" Bucky declared, gesturing grandly. Seeing the grin that spread across Steve's chest, his heart ached at the sight. Steve happy - there was nothing he loved more.

            "This is amazing. My God, Bucky..." Moving forward slowly, Steve stared at the blanket fort Bucky had assembled. Far grander than any of their childhood constructions, Bucky had used nearly all their living room furniture to create the walls, Christmas lights twinkling from the blanket ceiling, a thick carpet of sleeping bags and pillows making up the floor. Bending over to peek inside, Steve took in the bottles of beer already stocked, the bonanza of Chinese food waiting in a plethora of cartons, and the stack of holiday DVDs, ready to be played.

            Bucky nearly fell over when Steve straightened up and launched himself onto Bucky, nearly burying him in heavy muscle and the warmest hug Bucky had ever been experienced in his life. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his arms tightly around Steve's waist, fearing he was holding on too long, yet Steve seemed in no hurry to let him go. And this, _this_ was just one more reason Bucky had never stood a chance of getting over Steve - of moving on. From the very beginning, Steve had always been so quick to take Bucky's hand, to lean into his side, to pull him into hugs that lingered, but were never long enough for Bucky. How could Bucky build a defense against those touches that meant the world to him? At last, Bucky gave Steve a slap on the shoulder before pulling back, clearing his throat. "So. You, get into some comfy clothes, stat. Then this party can begin."

            By the time Steve bounced back into the room, looking more adorable and cuddly than ever in his pajamas, Bucky had pulled himself together enough to get It's A Wonderful Life queued up, waiting until they'd both crawled into the tent before he pressed play. He was full of happiness as he and Steve watched in rapt silence, forking up noodles and rice while George Bailey charmed a young, beautiful Mary Hatch, Bucky wiggling over the delight of it all. Until, twenty minutes in, Steve began to frown. Puff out an annoyed sigh. Make frustrated noises. Rolling his eyes towards the heavens, Bucky let out a sigh of his own.

            He wondered how he could be so foolish as to forget. There was no companionable silent movie watching with Steve. Not when he had an opinion about every-freaking-thing. Which Bucky loved about him, truly. Except for the occasions when Bucky wanted to smother Steve with a pillow. Not enough to _kill_ him of course. Just enough to knock him out so Bucky could enjoy a movie in peace, with only Steve's delicate snores as a delightful accompaniment. Particularly during this film. One that seemed to incite Steve to an impassioned fervor.

            When Steve let out another noise of frustration, Bucky rolled his eyes once more, risking eye strain with the severity of the gesture, before lifting the remote, and turning the volume down a few notches. "All right, let’s hear it," he prompted, resignation evident in his voice. Clearly that was all the invitation Steve needed, before launching into his passionate, and clearly prepared, speech.

            "It's all just so tragic! The things he wanted out of life, time and again, were thwarted. He never truly got the things he wanted, despite working so hard for them."

            Chin propped on his fist, elbow balancing on his knee, Bucky waited until he figured the first wave of the salvo was past. "You're missing the point Steve. It wasn't about what he'd wanted, but discovering the good he'd done, and the effect he'd had on people's lives. It was about learning in the end, that's what was important - helping the people who meant the most to him."

            Steve stared at him, blue eyes stormy dark, brows knitted as he frowned. "But even so - to never accomplish the things he'd dreamed of his whole life. He was so unselfish which is commendable. But what's so wrong with doing what you _really_ want? Isn't there something to be said of going after your goal, no matter what?"

            "Well, yeah. But it's equally as important to being open to change, to letting goals shift when your life takes you in a different direction. To not holding onto an idea so hard you miss all the other wonderful things in your life," Bucky offered. Watching, everything in him stilled as _something_ shifted over Steve's features. Frustration yes, yet something more, something that looked like sadness, his gaze upon Bucky's face never wavering.

            "So you're saying-" Steve paused. Biting his lip, the seriousness of his tone made Bucky believe, perhaps they were no longer discussing the movie at all. "Sometimes, you have to let go of the thing you've always wanted."

            Feeling his chest clench, actual pain spearing through him at the idea that tomorrow, he might face that very reality, Bucky swallowed before he could reply. "I think, you try to get what you want. But if it.... if it isn't for you, you appreciate what you do have. That's all any of us can do."

            Steve's eyes grew darker yet. His lips parted, and Bucky actually felt his heart pause in his chest, waiting to hear the words Steve had to say. Then he blinked when Steve took the remote from his hand, cranked the volume back up. "Pass the sesame chicken, punk."

            Heart resuming normal operating procedures once more, Bucky's resulting sigh was inaudible. He didn't know what he'd expected, but all he could do was follow his own advice. And appreciate it when Steve actually made it through the rest of the film without further comment. Yet when he stuck in Steve's favorite movie next, the empty Chinese food cartons shoved out of the tent so they could stretch out on the floor, bundled beneath blankets, a minor tussle occurring over the pillows when Bucky insisted they were all the same and Steve insisted Bucky had taken the best one and Steve was going to take it back Braveheart style, the prolonged moment of silence was over. Bucky had no desire to shut Steve up anymore though, when he was laughing obnoxiously, quoting nearly every Clark Griswold line with the adoration of a guy who'd been watching National Lampoons Christmas Vacation religiously practically since its debut. Bucky was too happy to see the unexpected moment of melancholy had passed.

            By the time Bob and Phil were plotting how to help save Major General Waverly's lodge in White Christmas, Bucky was nearly asleep, unable to resist snuggling up to Steve who had looped an arm around him, and tugged him close. Resting his head on that broad shoulder, Bucky let his lashes fall, content in the knowledge that nothing in life could be better than this. As he drifted off, clearly imagining the ghosting sensation of lips pressing to his temple, Bucky thought this very last night, there was no harm in pretending he already had exactly what he'd wanted.

 

 

Staring at his own reflection with eyes that unquestionably looked a little frantic, Bucky sucked in a deep breath. Another. Twenty more just for good measure. "You can do this," he muttered, raising hands that shook just enough to offend his masculine pride, and tucked stray stands of hair behind his ears. He wanted to look his best. Granted, Steve had seen him in every state of being possible in their decades of friendship, including his personal worst. Tenth grade, violent bout of food poisoning - fate had not been kind to Bucky that day. Today though, today it was more important than ever to look the very best he could.

            So, okay, the pale face like he was facing a death sentence, that had to go. And the whole body shake that made him look like he was having a minor seizure - that definitely had to be rectified before he'd risk leaving the safety of his room. But as for the rest of him... flicking his eyes over his reflection, Bucky gave a firmer nod than he felt. It would do. He thought the slate gray button up topped by the soft wine red sweater with rolled up sleeves paired with snug jeans struck the right tone. Nice, without being over the top. After all, Steve had no idea declarations of love were coming his way, and might be more than a little confused if Bucky popped out in a full tux. Not that Bucky hadn't considered it. But had after several spirited back and forths with both himself and an exasperated Nat, he'd given in and agreed that _might_ be more of a second date thing. Possibly a third. But for today - today the outfit was just right. His hair, he'd bundled back into an artfully messy bun that had taken an inappropriate length of time to get just right considering it had the word messy in the description. No shoes because, after all, he wasn't actually going anywhere. But the festive Christmas socks were fantastic. And he had no shame rocking them, because it _was_ Christmas Eve.

            As he felt his heart rate increase again, edging dangerously close to full on panic, Bucky closed his eyes. Back to the deep breaths. Trying to force reason through the completely visceral reaction, he reminded himself that this was _Steve_. Steve, his best friend. The man who knew him better than any other person. Even if the worse happened - his heart straight up stopped for two beats before resuming its frantic pace - even if Steve couldn't return his feelings, Bucky realized he knew deep down Steve would never turn from their friendship. And knowing that, the only fear left was putting a definitive end to the _possibility_ that could be more. Putting an end to the hope that had never managed to disappear, all these long years. That just maybe, someday, he could have everything.

            Perhaps thought that was for the best. This morning had been both incredible and incredibly hard. Waking up tangled with Steve, burrowed under the pile of blankets, legs intertwined, arms clinging to Steve's waist, Bucky realized he'd given himself away in his sleep. He’d been unable to resist holding Steve as close as he possibly could. Yet Steve - Steve had had one arm wrapped around Bucky's shoulders. The other hand tangled in Bucky's hair, as he kept Bucky's head pressed to his shoulder - a vastly preferable pillow to any of the ones they'd battled over last night.

            The two had woken up in a tangle of limbs before, as kids at sleepovers, when it had never been anything more than innocent. But this - it felt like so much more. The sheer bliss of it had made Bucky snuggle in tighter for long minutes, not wanting to break the moment that was absolute perfection. At last he'd managed to wiggle away, carefully extracting himself from Steve's grip without waking the other man, though Steve had frowned and resisted letting go. He didn’t shift away because he wanted to, dear lord, did he _not_ , but if Steve had woken up, looked at him with those beautiful blue eyes hazed with sleep... there was no way Bucky could have held back from spilling out every secret longing of his heart. And that was not part of the plan.

            Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

            The plan, he reminded himself. It had gone perfectly up till now. All he could do was hope that Christmas would work its magic for this final, most important step. And, he recalled, staring at the carefully wrapped box on his dresser, he had a secret weapon. One that might be just the thing to ensure success. If only he could just pull it together, and get his butt out of his room of stressful solitude, then the night could just finally _begin._

Firming his shoulders, Bucky took one last deep breath for good measure, because oxygen was his friend, before he shoved his door open, and stepped out. He moved towards the kitchen where Steve looked up from the stove, that heart-stopping smile on his face. "Hey, thought you were going to miss this, you were taking so long!"

            "Please, I wouldn't miss this for the world."

            Stepping into the kitchen, Bucky grinned when Steve playfully elbowed him, then pointed authoritatively at the cutting board. Following the silent order, he began to cut up the toppings for their traditional Christmas Eve meal. Neither of them was certain when it started, but they had noticed a trend that every Christmas Eve they spent together, they had Mexican food. Now, it was a firm tradition, and tonight's menu was nachos. By the time they had their food plated, and sat down at the dining table, everything had smoothed out inside of Bucky, put at ease by the comfort of it all. No matter the changes he hoped to make, this was what he'd always had, and loved.

            Sighing in delight over their nachos, which were significantly better than their attempts at cookies, Bucky smiled at Steve. The two fell into easy conversation over dinner, laughing over the various shenanigans of the past year, talking about their hopes for the next. Thought Bucky didn't mention his biggest of all, he was full of maybes. Maybe this could be. Maybe Steve would be his. Just maybe.

            By the time they'd been responsible adults and put their plates in the dishwasher, all while congratulating themselves so thoroughly for being adults they negated any maturity points whatsoever, then settled in to watch the Grinch, Bucky felt a new sort of tension strumming through him. It only heightened when Steve slid over until they were pressed against one another on the couch as the Grinch began to rob the unsuspecting Who's one by one. Maybe... This tension was no longer one of nerves. But pure hope.

            Grinning widely at Bucky once the movie reached its feel good conclusion, Steve practically bounced on the couch in excitement. "Presents?" he demanded, and Bucky laughed, even as his heart skipped one more beat.

            Giving him a light shove, Bucky rolled his eyes. "What sort of Christmas would it be if that wasn't on the agenda?" So what if they were suckers for traditions. Bucky could understand why it was so important, now more than ever. So much so that this holiday was practically sacrosanct to them. They were each other’s family now, and despite the friends they'd made along the way, Steve and Bucky - they came first. The knowledge was so soul deep, Bucky had never once considered Steve might make alternate plans for Christmas Eve. Christmas day, they would spent at Natasha and Clint's annual party. But tonight - tonight was theirs. Feeling a flutter in his chest, recalling the encouraging text Nat has sent his this morning, saying she couldn't wait to see him and Steve tomorrow, _together_ , he gathered his courage.

            "Definitely not Steve's And Bucky's Best Christmas Season Ever," Steve responded with mock seriousness, laughing at Bucky's snort.

            "Well we can't have that," Bucky said dryly. "Let me go get yours."

            Unabashedly excited, Steve wiggled, before bouncing up to start pawing under the tree for Bucky's present he'd already placed there, nearly smothered among the presents he'd purchased for their friends. A believer of gift cards, Steve was not.

            Quickly slipping into his room, Bucky grabbed the wrapped present. He closed his eyes in a silent moment of prayer, before heading back to the living room where he paused in surprise. Steve had turned off all the lights but the tree, the fireplace throwing flickering shimmers of light over everything. Christmas music playing low, Steve turned from the tree with a beautifully wrapped box in his hands. And perhaps it was just the dim, the fire, the thud of Bucky's heart at the sight, but Steve's eyes seemed darker than usual, gorgeous depths which Bucky never wanted to surface from. Pulled irresistibly forward, he made no protest when Steve gently tugged him to the ground until they were both sitting cross legged in front of the tree.

            Bucky parted his mouth, then closed it once more when Steve reached out, and took Bucky's hand in his own. An intensity that was almost impatience moved over Steve's face as he stared into Bucky's. "Listen, I just wanted to say... Thank you Buck. This really has been the best Christmas ever. And it's all thanks to you. I just wanted to say, I'll never forget it."

            Biting his lip at the sincerity in that deep voice, neatly prepared speech lying in shambles at his feet when he was undone by the simple yet heartfelt words, Bucky cleared his throat. He blinked back what he refused to admit was dangerous moisture in his eyes, and managed a smile. Because no matter what, for Steve, he could always manage a smile. "Well then, here's hoping this doesn't ruin all that," Bucky said, and held out the box.

            Steve's eyes stayed on him for long moments, until Bucky feared Steve would comment on the husky, tight tenor of his voice. But at last, Steve looked down at the package, and began to slowly unwrap it, at odds with the destructive enthusiasm Bucky had always witnessed Steve open presents with. Almost as though Steve didn't want this moment to end.

            At last, ribbon carefully set aside, paper peeled away, Steve looked down at the box he held in his hands. And the air punched out of him.

            Anxious now, as the seconds dragged by, and Steve spoke not a word, Bucky began to nervously babble. "Um, I think that's the one that you had. I spent forever looking, this is the closest I could find. Maybe it's not right, I'm sorry - I just. I thought - this was stupid, wasn't it? I didn't..." It had taken months to track down, with internet skills worthy of hacking into Korea's nuclear missile program department, the action figure. The precise action figure three horrible boys had stolen from Steve, then proceeded to break before beating the snot out of Steve. The very day Bucky had met him.

            Bucky had managed to fight off the bullies, pull a bleeding Steve to his feet, brush off his shirt, and tug the unresisting small boy into a hug. But he'd been unable to fix the toy, or more, erase the devastation from Steve's face. It was only a year later, their friendship firmly in place, that Steve had at last explained just why the loss had been so wrenching. Sarah- wonderful, generous, kind Sarah, had bought it for Steve. Even though money had been tight. Even though Steve, who understood even at that young age just how rough their situation was, had never once asked for it. She'd known he'd wanted it. And like the Christmas miracle Sarah was, she'd gotten it for him. Bucky had never forgotten.

            But now, now he feared he'd made a horrible mistake. Maybe this was too much. Maybe Steve was upset. Maybe -

            Starting when Steve lurched to his knees, pulled Bucky to his, and then wrapped the brunet in the fiercest of hugs, Bucky let his eyes close. There was no shame now at the damp heat that pricked them, when Steve whispered in his ear, voice ragged, "Thank you." Though his lashes flew back open in surprise when just as quickly Steve jerked back, and grasped Bucky's face in his hands. "Bucky, I love you."

            Bucky's mouth fell open.

            Quick now, the words tumbled out of Steve, each faster than the last. "Shit. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to - it's just, this is all so perfect, and _you're_ perfect, and I tried to never say anything because I didn't want to screw up the way things are but Christ I've loved you forever and now I just, I had to say something, and oh God, you're not saying anything, I should shut up now, I should, uh, yeah."

            Bucky blinked. Mouth still opened in stunned surprise. But words. Yes, words seemed like a good idea at this time. Particularly with Steve's hands so warm on his face, blue eyes wide and anxious and regretful yet cautiously hopeful.

            "You've got to be kidding me."

            Shit. Okay, he probably could have picked better words than that. Especially when Steve jerked back, hands dropping as though Bucky had burned him. Face approximating that of a kicked puppy, Bucky could literally see Steve folding into himself, making motions to turn away. And while this was wildly off script from Bucky's plan, complete with bullet points and illustrations, he could see when it was time to deviate from a course of action. Throwing the evening's agenda to the wind, Bucky quickly grabbed that gorgeous face in his own hands. Jerked until Steve's surprise parted lips met his own. And decided yes, this was a hell of a lot better than what he'd intended.

            The feel of Steve's beautiful mouth against his own, slack at first in pure shock, yet now catching up with delightful determination, Bucky moaned when Steve's hands gripped Bucky's hips. He nearly melted when Steve used the grip to tug Bucky closer yet, even as he angled his head the slightest bit, nipping at Bucky's lower lip, then sweeping his tongue inside when Bucky gasped, taking the kiss from divine to sinfully amazing. And Jesus, this was _everything_ Bucky had ever imagined, in every one of his wildest dreams. Steve was incredible, the taste of him pure intoxication, and Bucky could have happily continued to kiss him forever, until his body insisted with increasing urgency that he did in fact still need that whole oxygen thing. Pulling back, panting, Bucky stared into those blue eyes that were just as wide and stunned as he was sure his own were.

            "You are a complete jerk."

            "I - what?" Steve demanded in surprise. Even as a smile tugged at his lips, clearly inferring that while Bucky was feeling all _sorts_ of things right now, anger wasn't one of them.

            "Here I planned this whole freaking month just so that I could confess my feelings for you and you beat me to it!"

            "That was part of the plan?" Steve questioned, as his smile grew wider. And even as he rolled his eyes, Bucky couldn't help but smile in response. Because again, happy Steve - basically the best thing ever. Happy Steve who'd just kissed the heck out of him, definitely the best thing ever.

            "Yes, you complete punk. Way to ruin it!"

            "You could, uh, tell me now," Steve replied looking up through his lashes, the expression almost shy. And right, right, Bucky hadn't actually returned the declaration of love yet. Well, no time like the present.

            Gentling his hands, he slid them down Steve's neck, over those broad shoulders, along Steve's arms, until he could take those hands in his own, and hold them tight. "Steve. You've been my best friend forever. But you've always meant so much more to me than that. I love you Steve. Sometimes I feel like I've loved you my whole life. But I know without a doubt I will love you for the rest of it. Steve..." A pause. A smile when Steve's eyes grew as damp as his own, and somehow, that made it seem alright. "Will you date me?"

            "Yes. Yes of course. God, I love you," Steve replied. Kissing away the response on Bucky's lips, their arms twined around each other once more. And for once, Bucky could hold him, as tight as he wanted, as long as he wanted. Swaying into the embrace when Steve held him like he would never let Bucky go, Bucky kissed him back with all the love and sheer want that had built up inside of him for years. Tasting the same emotion, so pure and incredible on Steve's lips, Bucky knew he'd been right. Christmas was magical. And the gift of Steve's love was the best gift of all.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay for happy endings! I hope you enjoyed this fic, and if you did, comments would be the best Christmas present of all ^_^


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